


you make motion when you cry

by unhappy_turtle



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alcohol, Brief Violence, Canon Divergence, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhappy_turtle/pseuds/unhappy_turtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wanna go on an <em>ate</em> with me?" Eggsy slurs, "I'll give you the <em>D</em> later."</p><p>"You are very inebriated, aren't you?"</p><p>Eggsy nods, his head feeling too heavy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you make motion when you cry

**Author's Note:**

> So I included some actual scenes from the movie, but I changed them to fit the plot—idek, man.
> 
> (Maybe some consent issues, like nonconsensual kissing??)
> 
> I'm just posting it now, I'll edit later—please excuse any grammar/punctuation mistakes.
> 
> I don't know what else to say, I just hope you enjoy it.

Eggsy can pinpoint the exact moment Harry sees the bruises on his arm. It's awkward after that—as awkward as it can get pissing next to some sexy bloke. Eggsy tucks his prick back into his trousers. The thing is they aren't even mates or anything so Harry has no fucking right to comment—which he doesn't 'cause he's a gentleman.   
  
They wash their hands at the same time, "Dean," Eggsy starts, "he, uh—it only happens when he's drunk," or anytime he's slightly peeved, but he doesn't say that.  
  
"You don't have to explain anything to me," Harry says as he tosses his used paper towel into the waste bin.   
  
Eggsy follows him as he leaves the restroom, "but I wanna, you know." He tugs the sleeve of his hoodie down. The bruises on his chest are worse, they're purple and still tender.

Harry gives him this look, there's no pity behind his eyes. Eggsy's not sure what's there, but he likes it. He wonders if Harry knows how handsome he is. Eggsy's wanted to fuck him ever since he first saw him here, months ago, looking absolutely edible in an obviously bespoke suit.

There are times when he thinks Harry wants him, too, but those seem to be fleeting moments. When Harry's hand lingers when he's passing a pint or sometimes his eyes seem to glance towards Eggsy's lips—but Eggsy may just be delusional, simply just sees what he wants to.

"Well," Harry responds, "I'm willing to listen."

So Eggsy tells him about Dean, about the abuse, the bruises, about his father's death, about his mum, about Daisy; he tells him everything.

So maybe he's a bit drunk if he's spilling his guts to some bloke he barely knows, but Harry is a wonderful listener and he's very attractive and Eggsy's plastered.

>>>

It seems to be an unspoken agreement between them to meet at the bar every week on Thursday night. When Eggsy meets Harry this time though, he's chatting with some bald bloke. And he's also not bad on the eyes. He knows it's stupid, but a flash of jealousy jolts through him—and the black eye he's sporting isn't helping. (He got into a bit of a scuffle with Dean as he was trying to leave the house earlier.) His skin feels prickly, he tastes something bitter in the back of his throat.

The worst part is that he's upset with himself, upset that he's fucking upset 'cause he and Harry, they're—they're just nothing, he tells himself.

Eggsy carefully sets himself on the stool next to Harry with the bald bloke on the other side. "Oh, Eggsy," Harry starts, "this is Merlin. Merlin, this is Eggsy."

The bloke, who he now knows as Merlin, gives him a terse smile, but not before very conspicuously staring at the fresh bruise surrounding his right eye. Eggsy smiles back, but he knows it doesn't look anywhere near genuine. He's honestly not sure how his face looks at the moment. "Nice to meet you," Merlin says, just as polite as Harry.

"Same." He says, pretending not to notice as Harry and Merlin exchange a look. He orders a pint for himself.

It's awkward, to say the least. Merlin and Harry are obviously friends, or more—Eggsy fucking prays to every god that they aren't 'cause it'd break his already fragile heart. He attempts to follow their conversation, but after a short while he gives up, starts picking at his fingernails. 

He excuses himself to the restroom. He sits in one of the stalls and simply waits, tries to ease his mind, tries not to think too much.

The thing is Eggsy is not a jealous person, he's just not. He likes it when others succeed, he finds pleasure in the happiness of others. It's just with Harry, he feels as if someone's stuck their hand into his chest and they're attempting to wrench his heart right out, but it's a fucking stubborn organ. It's not going anywhere.

See he's now only known Harry for several months since they've met at this bar. Eggsy was having a rather rough time with Dean's goons and Harry'd shown up like his knight in shining armor (except in a wonderful tailored suit) and Eggsy had watched, amazed as he'd torn them all a new one.

Eggsy watches now as a pair of oxfords—he really only knows what those are because of Harry—stop in front of his stall. "Eggsy, are you in here?"

He doesn't respond, simply just pulls his feet up, sits back on the toilet. He wonders if it's unhealthy to fall in love with someone in such a short amount of time, something's got to be wrong with him. Dean always told him he wasn't right in the head.

"If you are actually using the restroom, I'll leave," Harry says. Eggsy looks down at the oxfords again from where the bottom of the stall door ends. "Eggsy, you're being quite immature."

"I'm actually quite grown, thanks."

"Doesn't seem like it at the moment, hiding in the restroom and all."

Eggsy extends a leg and attempts to kick the door, he ends up barely tapping it. "You know," he grumbles, "it's quite rude to leave your mate at the bar." He's certain his voice doesn't sound bitter.

"It is, isn't it, Eggsy?"

"Yeah, it fucking is!" He shouts at Harry through the door. He doesn't think he'd actually be able shout at Harry to his face.

"Well, I do consider us friends, correct?"

A little hesitant, he says, "yeah."

"And I do believe you left me at the bar."

"I mean, but you weren't alone, so… " Defeated, Eggsy gets off the toilet, he slowly unlocks the door and opens it. Harry kinda smiles at him, it's in his eyes, really. "Hey," his voice cracks, he's so fucking shy all of a sudden, his stomach is in knots and he's sweating and he's incredibly aware of the black eye. "I think I'm gonna get outta here."

"Is it alright if I walk you home?" Harry's voice makes him feel so weak. Eggsy wants to apologize for acting like a brat.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

"Okay… okay." And Harry—he fucking just puts his arm around Eggsy's shoulders, like they're mates (or lovers, he thinks fondly) as he navigates him out of the restroom. And it's very inappropriate, he knows, but Eggsy gets half hard just from that contact. He'd fucking take anything Harry's willing to give him.

Harry tells Merlin they'll be off as they head out. They get a small wave in response.

It's lovely out. Pitch black with stars speckled across the sky, it makes Eggsy feel so incredibly sober.

Eggsy's home isn't too far away from the bar, that's suddenly an upsetting fact. He wishes they could be together longer, Harry's arm around him, they're so close.

"So how do you know Merlin?" Eggsy asks, nonchalantly.

"We work together."

Eggsy doesn't reply, but he does subtlety step closer to Harry. Harry must notice because he carefully moves his arm to Eggsy's waist and Eggsy doesn't even know what to think anymore, he doesn't know what this is and Harry keeps doing shit like this and Eggsy wants to just—wants to just…

"Where do you work?" He asks instead of doing something stupid, like kissing Harry.

"I can't say," Harry replies.

"Oh, that's," _that's kinda hot_ , he thinks.

Now they're in front of Eggsy's residence and all the lights are off and he doesn't want to go inside, wants to stay out here and have Harry hold him.

"I'd, um," Eggsy mumbles, "I'd invite you in, but my mum and sister are asleep." Harry still hasn't removed his arm, but Eggsy is not complaining.

"That's alright." There's a beat of silence then Harry speaks again, "your eye, does it still hurt?" He says, releasing Eggsy from his arm so he can turn him a bit and they can look at each other head on.

It's dizzying, having Harry's eyes only on him. "No, it doesn't hurt anymore." Harry carefully, very carefully, rubs the purple skin around Eggsy's right eye with his thumb—Eggsy's breath catches in his throat and he's turned an awful shade of red.

If this was some romance flick, Eggsy thinks, he'd fucking go for it—kiss the fuck out of Harry because this is that moment when they're just staring at each other and they're so close it's fucking frustrating, Eggsy wants to sob.

Harry suddenly clears his throat and their contact is gone. "I'll see you next time."

"Yeah, I'll see you next time."

>

When Eggsy gets inside, he stands over Daisy's crib and watches her sleep for a while. 

>>>

Eggsy hasn't got into any arguments with Dean the last week. Only 'cause he's kept his mouth shut, but he feels kinda dead inside. It hurts more to not stand up for his mum or himself than it does to be hit by Dean.

But today he arrives at the bar with no new bruises. There's still some discoloration around his right eye. Harry looks delectable as always and Eggsy's feeling pretty confident. He wants to make a move today—he wants to do _something_. Which fills his stomach with butterflies, which makes him drink pint after pint until his vision is blurry around the edges and his voice doesn't sound like his own.

He trips off the barstool and slowly stumbles into the restroom. And of course, Harry is right on his heels. Eggsy stands in front of the urinal, just stares at it. He wanted to piss when he'd walked in, but now, he doesn't know anymore. "Eggsy," Harry says.

Eggsy makes an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat.

"Want me to take you home?" Eggsy squints at Harry, suddenly very confused on why he's here, why he wastes his time with a fucking punk like him. Just fucking look at him—at Harry with his stupidly lovely bespoke suit and the glasses he occasionally wears, fuck, the glasses, apparently Eggsy likes that now. He likes every stupid detail about Harry.

"I'm," Eggsy begins, it feels like he's underwater, everything seems so slow, and thick and blurry, "I'm… " He slowly, clumsily decreases the space between him and Harry until there's barely any. This is Eggsy making a move—he kisses Harry, nearly misses his mouth, getting the corner of his mouth. Harry is very still, like a fucking statue, doesn't even kiss back when Eggsy kisses him one more time for good measure.

"Eggsy," Harry sighs. His breath smells strongly of whiskey as it fans across Eggsy's face. If he weren't so wasted at the moment, he'd try to read Harry's expression. They're just standing there, pretending that whatever the fuck that just happened didn't when Eggsy's stomach churns and his heartbeat is erratic and he's only aware of what's happening when he staring at Harry's wonderful oxfords one moment and the next moment they're covered in vomit and Eggsy cannot stop heaving.

"I'm—" he tries, but his throat feels tight and there's this terribly bitter taste in his mouth. Eggsy takes a deep breath through his nose, "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Harry says, he helps Eggsy stand, takes him over to one of the stalls. He doesn't actually vomit again, he just gags for a while over the toilet.

When it's over, he's so mortified he can't even look Harry in the eye. Eggsy wants to disappear. "Sorry," he murmurs, allowing Harry to help him walk towards the sink, "I wanna go home now."

>

Eggsy tries to kiss Harry again before he gets into the cab that Harry had called for him, Harry takes a step back, dodging the kiss. Eggsy frowns deeply. "Just kiss me, goddammit," he slurs, he curls his hand into Harry's jacket, trying to pull him closer down into the cab, "do it."

Harry frowns right back at him, "You threw up ten minutes ago." He carefully removes Eggsy's hand from his jacket, stands up straight.

"So you'd do it if I hadn't?"

"Goodnight, Eggsy." He says as he shuts the cab door with a small smile on his lips.

>>>

They don't talk about it the next time they meet at the bar. And it's killing Eggsy inside. He understands that Harry is a gentleman, but does that mean he won't fucking make any moves at all? Eggsy wants to slap him—and kiss him.

"Your face looks quite lovely cleared up and all," Harry says from behind his martini. Eggsy blushes to the tips of his ears. The black eye has healed completely by now, there aren't any signs that it ever existed.

"Your face looks quite lovely all the time," Eggsy mumbles because they're _flirting_ —this is a game now. Harry is a fucking tease, Eggsy decides.

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Why, thank you."

"You know what I like in a guy?" Eggsy begins, heart jack-rabbiting in his chest.

Harry's eyebrow inches up just a bit more.

"My cock—"

Eggsy regrets it just as he's finished saying it because Harry's eyes widen then he's choking, coughing. Eggsy jumps from his seat and repeatedly smacks Harry across the back until he quits sputtering. He feels shitty 'cause he relished in the short contact.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be right back." Harry runs off to the restroom and Eggsy rethinks all his life decisions.

>>>

"Wanna go on an _ate_ with me?" Eggsy slurs, "I'll give you the _D_ later."

"You are very inebriated, aren't you?"

Eggsy nods, his head feeling too heavy.

>>>

Harry spits all over himself when Eggsy says something about exploring _Uranus_ —his anus—and he follows Harry into the restroom. Over the past couple of weeks, Harry has been infuriating. Eggsy couldn't be anymore obvious with the awful pick up lines.

"Hey," he says, Harry turns away from the sink to look at him. He's taken off his jacket and he's left in a dress shirt, the first couple of buttons undone, sleeves rolled up—Eggsy apparently has a thing for forearms now, or at least Harry's.

"Yes, Eggsy?"

"What's wrong with me?"

Harry doesn't reply, just stares at him and it feels like he can see through him with the look he has on his face, can see through his clothes—not in a perverted way, as if he sees all the faded scars and bruises, not necessarily understanding what Eggsy's been through, but he knows and that makes warmth flood Eggsy's chest.

"I know you're not dense." He pouts, trying to close the distance between him and Harry, but Harry keeps stepping back—until there's no more room for him to move back. "I don't understand."

The thing is Eggsy's been so good lately, he's been picking his battles with Dean as of late—he can't get all the fight outta him, has to stand up sometimes when Dean's being a real jerk-off to his mum. He's just praying that sooner or later that arsehole will be out of the house.

"Pretty sure I fucking love you," Eggsy mumbles underneath his breath. He's been feeling it the last several weeks, this sensation in his chest. It kept growing bigger, and bigger and it became so overwhelmingly tight in his chest, like there wasn't enough room, but this feeling continued to grow until—until it just popped, exploded. It could almost also be described as something blossoming inside him and Eggsy'll admit that it'd been terrifying and new and confusing. He understands what it is now.

He wants… wants Harry. And he wants Harry to want him, too.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"I'm not drunk, Harry," Eggsy lays his palms on Harry's chest, he can feel his heartbeat, it's fast, can feel it when Harry takes a deep, slow breath.

"Eggsy." Harry remarks and it makes Eggsy _livid_ , livid that Harry can just say his fucking name and his legs feel like jelly and his breath escapes him. "This is quite difficult to say. I'm," Harry searches his face, holds Eggsy's wrists and pulls them away, they're no longer touching, "not interested."

"Oh," Eggsy mumbles—but the contact and the flirting and the looks, the way Harry fucking looks at him, he… "oh," he says again, carefully furthering his hands from Harry's chest. Whatever he's feeling right now is too much, like he's grasping at something that's simply out of reach, something that refuses to be held.

"Eggsy—" Harry starts and he sounds like he's about to apologize and that's the worst possible thing right now.

"No, uh, I'll see you next time."

>

Eggsy does not cry when he's back in his bed, wrapped up in all the blankets. It's not because he's strong or anything.

Dean's watching television in the living room and it's loud—everything seems too loud. He enjoys the endless distractions.

>

His mum quickly figures out that something is wrong, but he's not going to spill any beans.

He figures if he pushes the feelings down enough, they will eventually and hopefully fade away.

>

They do not.

>>>

It's Daisy's crying that gets Eggsy out of his bedroom. When's he's in the living room he sees that Daisy is still in her crib, but his mum is crying on the floor, hand to her cheek and he goes from zero to a hundred in no time.

He first takes several deep breaths, he then makes sure to give Daisy her pacifier, he brushes the hair from her forehead before kissing it.

"Are you okay?" He asks his mum, he can almost see Dean's handprint on her cheek and he wants to break something.

She nods in reply. She stands up to pull him close and share an embrace. "I'm sorry," she says.

He shakes his head, "don't, don't be sorry." Sometimes he thinks—really thinks, about his life and wonders why the fuck he's here, why this family, why this situation and he wishes he had better, wishes he had a less dysfunctional life, but then he thinks about his mum, about Daisy. About how everything isn't perfect, but they're everything he could even fathom wishing for and then some.

The expanding sensation transpires in his chest once again.

"Where's Dean at now?" Eggsy speaks up.

"Don't worry about it, I'm going to call the cops," she responds.

"Mum, where is he?" Eggsy says, voice serious, but he's begging with his eyes.

"He's probably on his way the bar."

Eggsy pecks her on the cheek before he's out the door.

>

Eggsy catches Dean not too far from the house. He knows he shouldn't get violent but he simply can't help it, he's blinded by rage when he thinks about Dean hitting his mum. So he clocks Dean right in the mouth when he's close enough.

Dean falters back, holding his mouth. There's blood on Eggsy's knuckles, he's certain it's not his own. His heart is racing. He's panting. He wants to hurt Dean, wants to—

He's doubled over. He hears Dean call him a piece of shit, call his mum a whore. And he can't breathe for a second, not because he's been socked in the stomach, but because he's so taken by rage, everything's red.

Eggsy tackles Dean to the pavement, he can't stop once he's started punching him, doesn't stop when when Dean gets him right underneath the eye.

Eggsy doesn't hear the cop sirens as they get closer.

He has to be pulled off of Dean, but he doesn't resist when the cuffs are put on him, he gets into the back of the cop car with no fuss.

>

Eggsy's released from the holding cell rather quickly, he thinks. He is asking the cop that's getting the cuffs off of him what happened to Dean when he sees Harry. He's not sure what happens exactly, but something in his chest fractures beautifully.

Harry makes his way over to Eggsy, gracefully, eye contact is never once broken. It's overwhelming to say the least, all the want flooding back, but then comes the despair. Eggsy tries to hide it.

"Care for a drink?" Harry asks, annoyingly suave, Eggsy thinks.

"Sure."

>

They end up going to Harry's house rather than the bar. It's a lovely home, Eggsy decides, even though he notices a taxidermy dog in the bathroom when he's taking a good look at his bruised face.

He looks at the dog once more before leaving the bathroom. When he enters the kitchen, Harry is making them martinis and he's also bereft of his jacket and tie, left in a crisp white dress shirt and pinstriped trousers. Eggsy takes a seat on the counter, if going by the look that he receives, Harry does not like this, but Eggsy doesn't budge. "So are you a cop?" He asks.

"No, I'm not a cop."

"Then what are you?" Harry's now pouring glasses for both of them. Eggsy gladly takes his, not hesitating to have a sip.

"Would you believe me if I said spy?"

Eggsy snorts, "no, I wouldn't."

Harry raises his glass so they clink together, "cheers to not being incarcerated."

"Yeah," Eggsy takes another sip, "what about Dean?"

"I wouldn't worry about him." Harry says, and Eggsy thinks he would've winked, if that was his thing.

They share a long look, "thank you."

"No problem." There's a beat of silence. "Do you want ice for that?"

Eggsy shakes his head. He hates how the silence isn't awkward, how Harry is suddenly standing in between his legs. Like this, on the counter, Eggsy is taller than Harry. "You know what pisses me off?"

"What?" Harry says, his voice very careful.

"You," Eggsy says, "you can't do things like this."

"Like what?"

"Like _this_ , it just makes me want you more, when you're so close like this," Eggsy reaches a hand out, but doesn't touch. "It makes me love you more."

"Why me, Eggsy?" Harry murmurs, he's _right there_ , so much closer now, "why no one else?"   
  
"They wouldn't know how to love me," Eggsy mutters.

"And I would?" And almost apprehensively, Harry sets his hands on the counter, on either side of Eggsy's thighs.

"You do."

It's actually Harry who goes in for the kiss, hands moving onto Eggsy's thighs, light pressure, warm, holding him in a way. Eggsy kisses back because this is what he's wanted for a long time. Harry kisses Eggsy like he's the most important thing in the whole goddamn universe and it's just so lovely the way their lips easily move together, the way Harry's tongue elegantly explores Eggsy's mouth. He's as graceful with his mouth as he is with his feet.

"Eggsy," Harry breathes, their lips barely just grazing each other now. He squeezes Eggsy's thighs. "Bedroom."

>

"Is it okay if I leave marks," Harry breathes on Eggsy's nape, his voice thick and no longer so cultivated.

Eggsy nods, face smooshing into the pillow more. Harry is a heavy, solid weight on top of him, with his hot clothed erection pressing against Eggsy's arse.  

Eggsy's clothes are neatly folded on the nightstand—Harry hadn't appreciated it when he'd began stripping as he sprinted up the stairs.

A chaste kiss is placed between his shoulder blades before the same area is bitten hard. Just a bit more pressure and the skin would've torn. The pain makes Eggsy moan into the pillow. Harry moves further down his back, leaving trails of bites and kisses until he reaches the curve of Eggsy's arse.

His thumbs reach in between Eggsy's cheeks and pull, there's warm breath ghosting there. The anticipation is what's making his cock leak, sticky and messy onto the sheets and his stomach. Eggsy curves his spine, tries to get his arse closer to Harry's mouth.

Harry takes a moment longer to massage Eggsy's arse, which he'd enjoy if weren't so horny and desperate at the moment. "Harry," he says, his voice comes off whiny and broken because Harry chooses that time to act. His tongue brushes across Eggsy's hole.

It takes everything for Eggsy to hold back the sob that's making its way up from his chest. His hands fist the sheets as Harry continues, relentlessly eating him out.

And it's so much—feels like _too_ much when Harry's tongue goes _in_ , Eggsy loses all sense of self control and begins trying to ride Harry's tongue. He's moaning and rolling his hips, he thinks that he must be drenching the sheets with the beads of sweat rolling off of him.

He's such a mess, and so is Harry, he thinks. He's never actually seen Harry eat anything, but the way he eats arse is not gentlemanly, not going by the noises—the fucking noises, the wet sounds, the panting, the _slurping_.

When Harry withdraws his tongue from Eggsy's body, he curses in frustration, he's this close, wound up so tight, it hurts.

He mumbles obscenities into the pillow when a long finger enters him, easily, no stretch really, no burn. He asks for another—and there it is, the stretch, just faint, but still there. Harry scissors his fingers, it's only when they're at three fingers does Harry start to actually finger fuck him. His fingers skim Eggsy's prostate and he whimpers, feeling seconds away from death, from orgasm.

It's all so much, but he needs more.

He doesn't even realize he's begging until Harry is shushing him, caressing his skin, placing little kisses on his spine. He feels so empty without the fingers. Even emptier when all contact is lost because Harry moves off the bed, to the nightstand to acquire a condom.

The warm weight that settles on top of him when Harry returns to the bed makes Eggsy feel like he's cracking on the inside, falling about in such a wonderful way that he's never experienced before. And when Harry presses the tip of his cock against Eggsy's entrance, then starts to push in, firm, unyielding, god, Eggsy knows that he's broken, so broken, but not beyond repair, he realizes.

He feels full.

He can feel Harry's chest heaving against his back. "Please move," Eggsy mumbles because he's full, but not sated. And Harry does, starts at a slow pace, dragging out and in at an unhurried speed that makes Eggsy want to rip his own hair out. Harry's cock throbs inside of him in such a delicious way.

But he gradually gets faster, driving into Eggsy, bumping into his prostate in such an exquisite fashion. It's one of those moments when his heart feels as if it will seriously just beat out of his chest. Eggsy unclenches one hand from the sheets to reach for Harry's situated right near his head. He watches as their fingers intertwine. "I love you," he barely mutters.

Harry's thrust grow more frantic, carelessly pounding into Eggsy, pushing those filthy, desperate moans out. Eggsy gasps when a hand gets a hold of his hair, tugs his head back, Harry captures his lips with his own. His head is spinning, he can't breathe, can't think when Harry is this close.

It feels like he's standing on railroad tracks, and a train is approaching fast, he can't move, his heart's in his fucking throat, there's sweat dripping off of him, he wants to scream, scream so bad and he opens his mouth except nothing fucking comes out—

>

Eggsy had been crying, he guesses, because Harry rubs the skin beneath his eyes and it's fucking wet, he even kisses Eggsy's eyelids. "I love you, too," he smiles.

He gathers Eggsy in his arms; he feels whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Like everything I've ever written, I thought I knew what I was doing at first, then this fucking ran away from me. 
> 
> (Also, the really weird analogy between getting hit by a train and an orgasm—I know right!? I think I was high when I wrote most of this.)
> 
> (Lol, I just re-read this and realized I didn't mention any sort of lubricant, just pretend I did mention it. And a condom, safe sex, guys.)
> 
> Not Even Jail//Interpol
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://unhappy-turt.tumblr.com)


End file.
